The Sword that is Not a Sword
by Shadowsong1
Summary: I know this sounds freekish....but this is a combination of Harry Potter and some other stuff...which shall become very apparent later in the story....enjoy!
1. Where I Got My Totally Unrealistic and U...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Dalamar is officially not mine. Nor is James, or Lily, or Sirius, or Remus, or Peter. The world of Krynn is not mine. The world of Harry Potter is not mine. This is based on 'There Really Isn't One,' written by my dear friend Kathleen, a.k.a. Rosethorn. Any questions?  
  
Part 1: Why I Got My Totally Unrealistic and Un-Elven-Like Name  
  
My name is Guenevere. Yeah, doesn't really fit, right? I mean, what kind of self-respecting elf would have a name like Guenevere? My father named me. He named me after this heroine person in one of those freaky worlds he likes to visit. Some weird world called Earth. I mean, they could at least think of a more-oh, I don't know-imaginative name. Well, this Guenevere was supposedly the wife of a great king. Not like I care. I mean, Father's kept me pent up in this stupid grove for practically all of my life. Ever since Mama died. And even before then! We are hidden on this strange, unimaginative, purely human, Earth. See, Father and I come from another world-he won't tell me the name, but he was a very powerful mage there. Apparently, he lost his powers. Not that I care. See, for the past few years, I've been going to Salem School of Witchcraft. Father doesn't really like me going there. Can't imagine why. Anyway, that's all in the past. I got expelled. Are you expecting something big, and I having done something truly awful and evil and stuff? Well, sorry. I can't fulfill those expectations. I didn't blow up the cafeteria. I didn't set a teacher on fire. I didn't set a student on fire. I didn't set the Headmistress on fire. I am an elf. So I'm not going to Salem anymore. Well, that made Father really mad. He sent a rather rude letter to the Headmistress, withdrew me, and packed us off to ENGLAND! Of all places. I mean, couldn't he at least have packed us off to someplace exotic-like, the Bahamas, or-or Hawaii. Yeah. Hawaii would have been cool. Oh, well. I'm here now. Anyway, I'm going to a different magic school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It sounds like a pretty cool place. From what I've heard, the Headmaster there-some guy named Dumbledore-is pretty cool. I'm supposed to leave tomorrow.  
  
* * *  
  
Lily Evans paced nervously back and forth. Back and forth. She had just transferred from an Ireland school, and she had absolutely no idea how to get on the train. "Hi," said a quiet, ever-amused male voice behind her. "I don't believe I've seen you before. And you certainly look a bit too old to be a first year." Lily spun around to face laughing blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. The boy had messy black hair, and a charming smile. "Um. no I'm not a first year. I'm a transfer." "Ah. I see." The boy turned around and shouted, "Hey! Sirius! Get Remus and Peter and get over here! There's someone I want you to meet!" He turned back to Lily. "What's your name, anyway?" "I'm Lily Evans." "James Potter. Pleasure." "I'm sure." A guy with brown hair and dancing brown eyes jogged up, followed by a plump boy with colorless hair and beady black eyes. "What's up, James?" the brown haired boy asked. "I'd like you to meet Lily Evans. She's a transfer. Where's Remus?" "I couldn't find him. I'm Sirius Black, by the way. Pleased to meet you, Lily." "Pleasure's all mine." "I'm sure. This is Peter." "Hi," the plump boy said quietly. They heard running footsteps. Lily spun around. Another boy, also with brown hair, but with tired, gray eyes, jogged up, followed by a girl with silvery blue-gray eyes and dark auburn hair. "Hey, Remus," Peter, James, and Sirius all said in unison "Hi, guys," the guy said. "Have you met Guenevere Elvana?" "No," James answered. "Have you met Lily Evans?" "No," Remus answered. Sirius sized up Guenevere. "Remove your glove," he said, grinning slightly. "Why?" Guenevere asked. "You'll see. Just do it." "Very well." Guenevere pulled off her glove, revealing her hand. "As you can see, I carry no concealed weapons." "Oh, I already knew that," Sirius said dismissively. He kissed her hand softly, the feeling lingering pleasantly. "But you really wouldn't want to deny me this pleasure, would you?" Guenevere pulled her hand away, and looked directly at Sirius, her eyes dancing with laughter, though her face was stern. "Don't do that again," she said sternly, though she looked ready to laugh out loud. "Why not?" Sirius asked, his eyes dancing with fun. "Come on, guys. We're going to miss the train," James said. He turned to Lily and Guenevere and said, "We'd be honored if you ladies would care to join us." "I think that can be arranged," Guenevere said, smiling slightly. "Sure," Lily said, blushing. "Well, then, let's go!"  
  
A few minutes later, they were all comfortably situated on the train. They began telling life stories. "I'm Muggle-born," Lily said quietly. "My parents and my sister are all Muggles." "What about you, Guenevere?" James asked curiously. "I really don't know." "You don't know," Sirius said, disbelievingly. "You mean you're an orphan?" "No. My father's still alive." "Then is he or is he not a wizard?" "A little of both." "What do you mean by that?" Remus asked, leaning in curiously. "Father was a wizard-and he wasn't." "That doesn't make any sense," Sirius said. "Yes, it does. He was a mage. However, in some freak accident around the time I was born, he lost his powers. I don't know why. He doesn't really like to talk about it." "Isn't a mage just a wise person?" Lily asked. "Not to him. To Father, a mage is a magic-user." "Then are you pureblood or half-blood?" "I have no way of knowing. Mother died when I was very young." "I see," James said with mock gravity. Then, a voice came over the loudspeaker: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes. I would suggest that you change into your school robes. Have a nice day." And that was just the beginning. 


	2. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs--Wi...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, nobody but Guenevere belongs to me…at least, in this chapter. The ideas are all mine…umm…that's all for now…the ball this night…perhaps should be called 'Identities Revealed…' ok, I've given enough away now…read on!  
  
Part 2: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs—With a Little Nightwing on the Side  
  
For most of my life, I've been alone. I couldn't make many friends. Those few who pretended to be my friends deserted me as soon as they found out what I was.  
  
Not James, or Sirius, or Peter, though. Every full moon, they spend the night with me. The Stargames are the single bright spot in my life.  
  
We met Nightwing at the Stargames. Nightwing is a bird. A dove. A black dove. She just flew up one night, and began to play with us. There is something about her eyes that reminds me of someone…but I can't tell whom. Maybe…but no. Why would Guenevere have anything to do with Nightwing?  
  
* * *  
  
It was the sixth year. Halloween. Guenevere hadn't been asked to the masquerade by anyone. She didn't mind. She kind of liked solitude. She did intend to go, however. Lily had begged her quite pathetically. So finally, she had agreed to go alone.  
  
"What are you going as?" Lily asked.  
  
"You'll see," Guenevere said with a smile.  
  
"Can I do your hair?" Lily asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I do your hair?"  
  
"Sure…I guess…"  
  
"Great! Sit down. You're too tall for me to reach when you're standing."  
  
"Fine, fine."  
  
"What color are you planning to wear?"  
  
"Navy blue."  
  
"All right."  
  
A few minutes later, Guenevere looked in a full-length mirror, and gasped. Her hair was wonderful! It was in a patterned arrangement of braids. Then the braids were twisted into an intricate, thick braid that fell down to her waist. At the bottom, it was tied in a dark blue ribbon.  
  
"Lily, this—this is incredible!"  
  
"Thank you," Lily said modestly. "I'm going as a bride."  
  
"And would James be the groom?" Guenevere asked teasingly.  
  
"You hush," Lily said, though she was blushing.  
  
"I'm going up to change. You go on down, ok? I know James wouldn't want to be kept waiting…"  
  
"All right."  
  
A few minutes later, Lily met James and Sirius down in the common room. "Where are Remus and Peter?" she asked.  
  
"They went down to reserve us a table. Where's Guenevere?"  
  
"She's upstairs changing. Are we still going according to plan?"  
  
"Hopefully," James said.  
  
Sirius looked outside. "I don't know, guys. It's a bright night tonight."  
  
James went over to the window. "So it is," he admitted ruefully.  
  
"What does that mean?" Lily asked. Sirius and James exchanged looks.  
  
"We'll tell you some other time," James said. "Masks on."  
  
A few minutes after they arrived in the Great Hall, a slim young woman in a navy blue dress that looked like she had dragged it up from 1860, an intricate braid tied with a navy blue ribbon, and a navy blue mask that hid her face entered the hall.  
  
"Guenevere?" James asked Lily.  
  
"Yeah," she replied. "Plans in motion?"  
  
"Yeah. We just need to wait for the competition to start," Sirius answered.  
  
About an hour later, Professor McGonagall came forward. "If I may have your attention, please," she said. "We have chosen tonight's winners in the costume contest. Among the gentlemen…" she picked up an envelope that was on a chair nearby. "The young man over there in the white 19th century suit."  
  
"That's you, Remus!" James hissed. "Go get 'em!"  
  
"And among the ladies," Professor McGonagall went on, "The young lady in the navy blue dress. Are you both here? Yes. Good. You get a slow dance together. Isn't that wonderful?"  
  
There were giggles from the crowd. Guenevere and Remus—totally aware that the other was who the other was—put their arms around each other, and began to dance. It was the most wonderful sensation that Guenevere had ever experienced. There was something familiar about the guys gray eyes, but she couldn't tell what it was…  
  
Remus danced in the arms of the young woman who had won the girls' division contest. It was heaven. He was lost in shadows of navy blue—lost in her eyes. There seemed to be something he recognized in her eyes, but he just couldn't place it? Who could she be?  
  
The music ended. Remus and Guenevere slowed and stopped, willing the music to go on, for them to be able to stay in each other's arms for eternity. But it was over. Remus pressed his lips softly to Guenevere's. She did not pull away.  
  
"Excellent, ladies and gentlemen," said Professor McGonagall. "Please remove your masks, and reveal yourself to your partner." Guenevere and Remus removed their masks simultaneously. Remus' eyes widened. Guenevere's eyes opened in shock, and they darkened to an almost black with fear. She wrenched her arm from Remus' grasp, and fled.  
  
Remus ran after her.  
  
"He shouldn't have done that," Sirius muttered, watching Remus tear after Guenevere. "It's a bright night tonight."  
  
James' only response was: "Get Peter."  
  
It was cloudy. Remus found Guenevere sobbing by the lake.  
  
"Guenevere?" Remus asked tentatively, sitting down beside her.  
  
"Remus? What are you doing here?"  
  
"I—I wanted to apologize."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For—for kissing you. Without asking."  
  
"That? I—I—I actually kind of liked that."  
  
"You did? Then why are you crying?"  
  
"Because I've been so damn stupid!"  
  
"What about?"  
  
"I should have told you—after that first night, I should have told all of you."  
  
"Told us what?"  
  
"About me."  
  
"What about you? All I know is that you're the most amazing, wonderful, courageous young woman I've ever met."  
  
"I—I'm—I know what you are."  
  
Remus seemed taken aback. "A-all of us?"  
  
"Yes. I could tell which was which by observing your conduct and personalities."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sirius reminds me of a dog. He's playful, but loyal. James—it's kind of obvious he's the stag. He's proud, and magnificent. And Peter, well, Peter's always reminded me of a rat. I don't know why."  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"You remind me of a lone wolf I saw once. The wolf was black, so it was rejected from its pack. It was despised by even its own kind. That very much reminds me of your personal character traits."  
  
"I—see." Remus was slightly stunned. The clouds moved over the moon. It was almost time. Madam Pomfrey came up.  
  
"Are you ready, Mr. Lupin?" Madam Pomfrey asked.  
  
"Yes, Madam. I am very ready."  
  
"Then, let's go."  
  
The Stargames that night were the most incredible any of the Marauders had ever seen. With a fifth person, they could finally complete their map. With Guenevere—nicknamed Nightwing—they could get a birds eye view of the castle. They finished their map the last night of the school year.  
  
Guenevere sighed, as she left the station at the end of the train ride. The year was over. It would be two whole months before she would see Lily, or James, or Peter, or Sirius again.  
  
Two whole months without Remus. 


	3. Why a Simple Swim and a Life Saved Can C...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: As I'm sure I've said before, no one but Guenevere belongs to me…there is a surprising twist later in the chapter…um, I think that's it…enjoy!  
  
Part 3: Why A Simple Swim and a Life Saved Can Change Your Life Forever  
  
(A/N: I seem to enjoy long titles, don't I? Ok, moving along now…)  
  
I like Quiddich. Not as much as James, though. I don't think I ever will. Anyway, some weird things have been happening this year…for one thing, Guenevere came back to school with a secret—and Guenevere NEVER keeps secrets…well, not usually.  
  
Anyway, the Quiddich final of our seventh year kicked butt! For more than one reason, too…  
  
* * *  
  
It was the Quiddich final. Since James had joined the team as Seeker in his second year, they had rarely lost a match. And when Sirius made the team as Beater in their fourth year, the team really kicked butt. And when Guenevere joined the team as a Chaser in their sixth year, the circle of great players begun with James was complete.  
  
"Guys, I want to tell you something before the others come," James said, looking uncharacteristically serious.  
  
"What is it, James?" Sirius asked. (A/N: Have you ever noticed how serious and Sirius are pronounced the same way, and when Sirius was a kid, he was anything but serious? ::notices people staring:: ok…I'll stop now)  
  
"Well…more than just the Cup rests on this match…" James said hesitantly.  
  
"What are you driving at?" Guenevere said.  
  
"Well…I was talking to Severus Snape the other day…"  
  
"I don't think I'm gonna like this…" Sirius said.  
  
"And…well, we started arguing. About the outcome of the match."  
  
"Oh, dear," said Guenevere.  
  
"And…well, we got a little…shall I say…temperamental."  
  
"We're in trouble," Sirius said flatly.  
  
"Well, we bet that if Gryffindor won, he would be our personal slave for the rest of the school year…"  
  
"I think I like this…" Sirius said.  
  
"AndthatifSlytherinwonhewouldtellthewholeschoolaboutRemus."  
  
"What?" Guenevere said dangerously.  
  
"Slow down, James," Sirius added.  
  
"If Slytherin won, he would get to tell the entire school about Remus."  
  
"Oh no," Guenevere said, going very pale.  
  
"Yeah, that's bad," Sirius said.  
  
"So, play your best. And DON'T LOSE!"  
  
"Don't worry, James. We won't," Guenevere said, looking determined.  
  
About an hour later, they emerged from the match, victorious. Remus was safe! Immediately after the match, Remus asked Guenevere to the Seventh Year's Farewell Dance. Of course, she said yes.  
  
The night of the dance was a beautiful night—with a half moon. May 16. Guenevere would often look back to that date with tears in her eyes—then, little did she know, she saved a life—and destroyed another.  
  
Guenevere and Remus were out in the garden. They were sitting together, talking about old times—good times, bad times. Guenevere had yet to tell him of one of her secrets—her race. The person she loved above all others—save her father—had no earthly idea that she was an elf. And after what had happened at the end of her fourth year, no one could blame her for hiding it.  
  
"They fell in the lake! They're drowning! Somebody help them!" A piercing cry broke the warm May stillness. Guenevere was on her feet in an instant, and dashing toward the lake. Remus stood up, and immediately followed her.  
  
By the time he got there, it seemed that the whole school was gathered around the lake. There were two unconscious forms on the bank already. No sign of Guenevere, though. He looked around for her, panicking.  
  
Guenevere came out of the lake a few minutes later, dragging a third unconscious form after her.  
  
"Guenevere!" Remus called.  
  
"I'm here, Remus," she responded quietly, smiling up at him.  
  
Then she collapsed in a dead faint.  
  
She woke up a few days later in the hospital wing.  
  
"Gwen?" Remus asked tentatively, forgetting for a moment that memorable time in their fifth year when she had slapped him for calling her that.  
  
"Don't. Call. Me. Gwen!" she hissed, sitting up. "How long?"  
  
"Three days," James answered.  
  
"Three days," Guenevere repeated dully. Three days of her life gone. Not that it mattered. For the first time, the full meaning of being elven struck her.  
  
"Guenevere? Is…anything wrong?" Lily asked.  
  
"No, Lily. There—there's nothing wrong. I—I'm fine."  
  
'Ok…if you're sure…"  
  
"I am. Quite sure," Guenevere said, smiling slightly.  
  
For the next hour or so, while her friends were there, she made an effort to be cheerful. Apparently, it worked, because they all thought she perfectly fine.  
  
She wasn't. She was elven.  
  
She remembered the fear, the pain, of the end of her fourth year. He had no name, not any more. And his face—he didn't have a face either. He had hurt her—hurt her as no woman or girl should ever be hurt—hurt her, and just because she was elven. And she had to live with the child, too. She had cried when she found out. Now, now she never cried. She had seen the worst, and the worst had taken her tears away. But now—now her ancestry was hurting her again. Her time in the lake had shown her something. The merpeople, while they had put their filthy hands torturously on Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus Snape, had cried "Elvana, Elvana!" at the sight of her, and fled. She thought she understood. She was elven. Her people measured their lives in centuries, not years as did her human friends. She would live centuries more. Why, by her peoples' standards, she was not even a maiden, let alone a woman! And Remus—Remus was the most stunning young man she had ever met. She could no longer live and love Remus and know that he was a man, and she merely a child. Not only was it unfair to him, but they both would also have to live through the pain of seeing Remus grow old—while Guenevere remained fresh and young. She couldn't have borne that. And the child—the child. Destined to a fate—her life—the child's life—was in ruins. Because she was Elvana.  
  
It was the second to last day of the year. That night was a full moon, so this was the last time she would see Remus—at least, for a long time. She closed her eyes.  
  
He kissed her.  
  
"No, Remus," she whispered.  
  
"Why not?" he asked, and continued.  
  
"Remus, no," she said more firmly, pushing him away.  
  
"Guenevere? What's wrong?"  
  
"I—I'm sorry, Remus."  
  
"Sorry?" he looked puzzled. "Why?"  
  
"Remus—I—I can't—we—you—I---"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Remus, I'm sorry. It's over."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Remus. But this has to stop."  
  
He now looked sad, tormented. "It's because of what I am, isn't it." A statement, not a question.  
  
"No, Remus," she said quietly. "It—it's because of what I am."  
  
"What—what you are? I—I don't understand."  
  
"I'm sorry, Remus. It's—it's just over." She ran.  
  
If she had looked back, she would have seen the tears running slowly down his cheeks, seen the pain, the confusion in his eyes. She might have reconsidered. But she didn't look back. She closed her eyes against her own tears, and ran.  
  
She waited until she was in her dormitory with the door locked before she let herself cry.  
  
(A/N: ::sniff sniff:: So sad…anyway, this was to make you read more…(muahahaha) And I hope you enjoyed this…sorry this was so dark…but it gets darker. So if you don't like dark, intense romances, then STOP READING! And I am NOT going to answer any questions about the child. So deal with it. The child becomes important later—but I'm not going to tell you how. HAHAHA!!!! SO READ ON!!!!!!!!! AND REVIEW!!! IT MEANS A LOT TO ME!!! ::notices more people staring than during the Sirius crack:: Ok. I'll shut up now.) 


	4. Elf, Dark Elf, Half Elf, a Link, and the...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, nobody except Guenevere and Gareth belongs to me.anyway.this is the next chapter.and Remus doesn't show up.so, deal with it!  
  
Part 4: Elf, Dark Elf, Half Elf, a Link, and the Worst Night that Anyone Had Ever Seen  
  
"What are you planning to do with your life, Sirius?" I asked. "You know what? I really don't know," he answered. "What about you, Lily?" I asked, turning my eyes to her. "I really don't know. I think I'm going to do some work for the Ministry." "That's cool. What about you, Peter?" "I don't have a job yet," Peter said, grinning sheepishly. "That's ok." "Well, James. You've asked all of us. What are you doing?" Sirius asked. "I got onto a Quiddich team," I answered. "No surprises there," Sirius answered. "There's only one person here who hasn't told what they're going to do," Lily said, turning her green eyes to Guenevere, who was leaning against a window, staring listlessly out at the countryside. "Guenevere? What do you plan to do with your life?" "What?" Guenevere said, jerked out of a reverie. Lily sighed. "What do you intend to do with your life?" "Oh. I'm not allowed to tell." "Whyever not?" "Because of the kind of work I'm going into." "I see." We played a few games of cards-in which Guenevere did not join in-and when we reached Kings Cross, they all said goodbye. "Bye, guys!" Lily shouted, as she went to join her parents and sister. "I'll keep in touch, all right?"  
  
"Bye, Lily!" I called back. Only Guenevere didn't take part in the farewells. I always wondered why. Guess I'll never know.  
  
* * *  
  
The boy was six. He had had a violent birth, and had been cloistered all his life. He had his mother's silvery blue-gray eyes, and his father's brown hair, which he wanted to wear long, but his grandfather said that was inappropriate for a boy his age. His mother was coming home today. She had spent the last four years completing training as a spy. And she was finally coming home. He barely knew her. She had only been around during summers for his first 2 years, and she hadn't been at home at all for the past four years. A young woman jogged up, auburn hair flowing down her back all the way to her hips. The boy's grandfather, Dalamar, walked calmly out to meet her. "Guenevere," he said calmly. "Father," she replied, equally calmly. "Would you like to meet your son?" Dalamar asked hesitantly. The young woman-Guenevere-blinked. "Yes. Yes, I would." "Gareth!" Dalamar called. "Don't be shy. Come and meet your mother." The boy came up shyly. "Mama?" he whispered. The young woman smiled at him. Gareth was captured. He, from then on, revered his mother like a goddess. He honestly worshipped her. Even though she worked almost all of the time, when she was home, she was his best friend in the entire world.  
  
A year later, Guenevere was helping Lily get ready for her wedding to James. Guenevere was Lily's bridesmaid. Lily was dressed in the same white outfit she had worn for the masquerade when she was 16. She was 22 now. Guenevere was wearing sky blue. Guenevere was braiding Lily's hair when her communicator went off. "Not now!" she muttered, and answered. "Yes.right now? I'm on.no, sir.right away, sir.I know, sir.yes, sir." She turned to Lily. "Lily, I'm really sorry, but there's an international crisis going on right now, and I can't make your wedding. Can you possibly forgive me?" "It's all right, Guenevere. I'll explain to the others," Lily said. Of course an international crisis is far more important then my wedding! Lily thought. What was she thinking?  
  
Guenevere arrived at the Ministry in a very few minutes. She walked through the halls, her smooth, silky robes billowing around her. "I don't have time for this," she muttered. She quickened her pace. When she reached the Minister's office, she saw the Minister, his wand on the table, a young man with his wand pointed at the Minister, who was tied to the chair. Guenevere pulled a knife, and flung it, not bothering to aim. She walked over to where the assassin was pinned to the wall. "Pity," she said quietly, as she untied the Minister. "I killed him. And I do not often miss my aim." The Minister smiled. "Aren't you a bit.overdressed for a rescue?" "No, you think?" Guenevere said sarcastically. "I'm actually dressed for my best friend's wedding." "I'm sorry to interrupt that." "It's ok," Guenevere said, smiling slightly.  
  
It was exactly two weeks before The Night. Guenevere and James were talking together, out in his front yard. "Guenevere, I-I may not-I-I think one of the Marauders is a traitor," James said hesitantly. "I know," Guenevere responded softly. "I-I can't really rule out anyone." "James, I will swear on my life-and anything else you wish me to-that I am not the spy." "Coming from you, I know you tell the truth." "What do you want me to do?" "I-do you know how to link?" "Yes. We learned that in training." "I-I was wondering if-if you could link to Lily and I, and maybe even Harry. It might save our lives. I-I'd be eternally gratefully if you would-- -" "Of course I will, James," Guenevere said quietly, putting her hand on his. "I'll do that."  
  
Two weeks passed. Evening. Quiet. Guenevere sat in her home in an aspen grove. Her son was in bed. Her father was in the library-studying. What else? She was waiting. She had a bad feeling about that night. She felt- fear. Fear such as she had not experienced since-since-the Unspeakable. She closed her eyes. Abruptly, she jumped up. She dashed to the library. "Father!" she shouted. "What is it, Guenevere?" "I can't feel him anymore! He's gone!" "Calm down, daughter. Who do you mean?" "James!" "My gods." "Lily." "You're not planning to." "Yes, Father. I have to help her. I only worry that I am too late." "Guenevere, Guenevere! You're powerful, but you're not that powerful! You'll die!" Guenevere smiled grimly. "That's a chance I'll have to take." She Disapparated.  
  
"No, not Harry, please not Harry! Have mercy, have mercy!" "Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside!" Guenevere appeared next to Lily. She was hidden in the shadows. She heard the words-the horrible, awful words, the words that had killed James, the words that intended Lily for their next victim. She grabbed Lily, and whispered some words of Krynnish magic. At the instant that she left, she cast two more Krynnish spells: one to create an illusion of Lily's body, just in case, and one to destroy the house. A few moments later, they appeared in Guenevere's living room in the house made out of an aspen grove. "I did it," Guenevere whispered, and then stumbled. "Mama!" Gareth shouted, attempting to catch her. Dalamar got there first. "Guenevere?" Lily asked, looking confused. "Yes?" Guenevere whispered. "Did he just call you 'Mama?'"  
  
(A/N: I am very well aware that this is an extremely cruel place to cut off a story.and I am also aware that you can deal with it. When the next chapter arrives, some questions will be answered.I don't intend to keep you in suspense forever!) 


	5. Why He Called her Mama, Another Potter, ...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Wish I did, but I don't. Wish I could, but I can't. I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Therefore, you have no cause to sue me. I am merely trying to amuse my extremely sick mind.  
  
Part 5: Why He Called her Mama, Another Potter, and Gareth Goes to School (A/N: Needless to say, this chapter covers a lot of time. Three years, anyway.)  
  
"And so he calls me Mama," Guenevere finished. I stared at her in shock. All this time, she had had a secret child. She had never told us! But then again, I couldn't really blame her. If I'd had an illegitimate child, I wouldn't exactly tell everyone about him, either. That reminded me about the child I carried. "Lily? Is something wrong?" Guenevere asked, concerned. "I was going to tell him tonight." "Tell who what?" "Guenevere.I'm pregnant again."  
  
* * *  
  
A year later, Guenevere returned from another mission. "Hi, Lily!" she called. "How are you?" "Fine.you missed it." "I know.and I'm sorry. Is this one a son or a daughter?" "Daughter. Her name is Crystal." "And what does Gareth think of this all?" "I think he finds it very amusing," Lily said, laughing. Guenevere laughed. "He would." "How long are you with us this time?" "I only get a week." Lily looked dismayed. "Only a week?" "Sorry. But there's nothing I can do, you know that." "I know. But still." "You'd like to keep me for longer, wouldn't you." "Yeah." There was a long, tense pause. Finally, to break the silence, as well as genuine intent, Guenevere asked to see the baby. "Sure," Lily whispered.  
  
Crystal was a quiet baby. She had reddish hair, and blue eyes. Over the next few years, she only became more and more like her mother. Perhaps the tranquil, quiet environment of the home in the aspen grove contributed to it, but it was most likely in her nature.  
  
Gareth was 11, and Crystal was four. Guenevere was home for another brief visit: this one a month. Everyone's mood seemed to improve when Guenevere was home. Perhaps it was because they knew that, for a while at least, her life wasn't in nearly as much danger. And besides, when Dalamar was tense, as he invariably was when Guenevere was away, the house seemed dark, shadowed, dead, though the house was made of living trees. "Gwen!" Lily shouted, running up and hugging Guenevere, who obligingly hugged her in return. "Please don't call me Gwen, Lily." "Sorry. I forgot. Forgive?" "Of course." Putting their arms around the other's shoulders, they walked into the house. "So how's everything? How are Father and the kids?" "Fine. Gareth got his letter." "Of course. Have you and Father taken him to get his things yet?" "We decided to wait for you." "Thank you. It's an important part of my son's life." "Anytime."  
  
"Speak of the devil, where is he?" "With Crystal and your father. And here they come now." "Mother!" "Auntie!!!!" "Hello, Guenevere. How are you?" "Fine, and yourself?" "Fine." "Crystal, you look beautiful. Calm down, Gareth. It's not that big an issue." Everyone was smiling. Guenevere was home. 


	6. Warnings, Teaching, the Sword That is No...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Wish I did, but I don't. Wish I could, but I can't. I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Therefore, you have no cause to sue me. I am merely trying to amuse my extremely sick mind. Author's Notes: I'm jumping several years.to Harry's seventh year. I want this done.  
  
Part 6: Warnings, Teaching, the Sword That is Not a Sword  
  
(A/N: ::blinks:: Wow.pretty short chapter title, considering the other's I've used.)  
  
"I'm sure it's there," I said to my daughter as I paced rapidly back and forth.  
  
"You want me to accept the position and make sure he doesn't get it?" Guenevere asked me, sharpening one of her knives.  
  
"I don't think this is a good idea," Lily said from where she was curled up in an armchair.  
  
I shrugged. "What other options do we have? If he gets the sword, we have no hope."  
  
"Hope is the denial of reality," Guenevere quoted softly.  
  
"Guenevere."  
  
"Yes, Father?"  
  
"Accept the position. Guard the sword with your life."  
  
Guenevere stood up and stretched like a cat. "I'll guard it with my soul."  
  
* * *  
  
"And, finally, I'd like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Elvana," Professor Dumbledore finished. Guenevere stood up, acknowledging the slight applause. She glanced down at the teaching schedule she had been given. The first class she had to teach was 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins.  
  
  
  
"Late, late, late." Guenevere muttered to herself as she dashed to her class. Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia tinged with sadness hit her when she remembered how she and her friends were rarely on time to anything but their favorite classes when they were in school. She opened the door to her classroom to find most of the students talking. She pointed to a student in the middle of the room. "You. Blonde. On your feet."  
  
The boy she had pointed to blinked. "Me? No."  
  
"Now."  
  
"No."  
  
She swept over to him so she looked directly down on him. "Very well. Think fast." He gasped as she plunged a dagger down smack in the center of his desk.right where his hand had been an instant before. "Reflexes in tune," she muttered. "In sore need of an attitude adjustment." To the boy, she said, "What's your name, Blonde?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy," he muttered sullenly.  
  
"Good. Now I know the name you have to earn."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Until I find you worthy of that illustrious and old name, you will be 'Blonde.' Understood?"  
  
Malfoy nodded, looking slightly panicked.  
  
Guenevere glanced around at the class. "I am here to teach you the fine art of dueling. Lesson 1: Never tangle with the wrong people. Lesson 2: Carry as many weapons as is physically possible. You never know what you might meet."  
  
"God, she sounds like Moody," Ron muttered to Harry.  
  
"I heard that, boy," Guenevere said. "And for that, you may come up here."  
  
Ron gulped, but obeyed. He had learned from Malfoy's example.  
  
"Let's see." Guenevere muttered. "Girl," she said, pointing at Hermione. "Come up." Hermione, looking excited, obeyed. "Braid your hair." She spent the rest of the class demonstrating, on Ron and Hermione, the places you could safely hide a weapon, and the weaker points on the body. (A/N: No, she did not actually hit anybody. She just pointed them out.) When the bell rang, she held them back for a minute. "For homework, you are to find at least ten more places you can safely and prudently hide a weapon on your body. It may be any weapon, any place-that is not obscene-but you may not use any place we discussed in class. Any questions?" The class collectively shook their heads. "Good. Dismissed."  
  
That night, she began to look for her father's ancient sword. 


	7. Old Friends, New Friends, Fight for your...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Wish I did, but I don't. Wish I could, but I can't. I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Therefore, you have no cause to sue me. I am merely trying to amuse my extremely sick mind. Author's Notes: I'm jumping to the end of the year.SECOND-TO-LAST CHAPTER, PEOPLE!!!  
  
Part 7: Old Friends, New Friends, Fight for your Life, Fight for your Soul  
  
I found the sword. I knew the Dark Lord had as well. It was all he needed to reach total domination. Total annihilation. Life as we knew it- indeed, possibly life in general-would cease to exist.  
  
I paced agitatedly back and forth in my office. My list of options was growing short. So was my time. I stopped pacing and threw myself into a chair. I stared moodily into the fire. According to my people, I was just barely a teenager. I was, by all accounts, too young for this responsibility. But if I didn't do it.who would?  
  
It had to be that night. I resumed pacing. I had to get the sword to my father tonight. If I moved any slower, the Dark Lord would get it. that could not be allowed.  
  
I would destroy my own soul first.  
  
* * *  
  
Guenevere paced back and forth at the shore of the lake. Back and forth. She glanced at the sky. The moon had to be at precisely the right height for her to see the sword. She glanced at the forest. She sincerely hoped her backup was there.  
  
Time. She dove into the water. Down and down and down. She looked around. She knew from experience that the merpeople would leave her alone. She still didn't want to take chances. She would have cried out triumphantly if that hadn't meant swallowing water.  
  
The sword.  
  
Guenevere grasped the ancient sword by the hilt and began pelting herself towards the surface. Her head broke the surface. She saw her.odd.reinforcement standing on the shore. "Ready?" she asked him. He nodded. She lept onto his back. They began to run towards the edge of the grounds.  
  
And, as luck would have it, they bumped into the Dark Lord himself.  
  
"Wonderful," Guenevere hissed. "Wait here," she said to her reinforcement. He glared at her and shook his head. She sighed. "Fine, then. But stay out of my way." He looked away. "You," she said to the Dark Lord. "You want the sword? Come and take it."  
  
"Fine, then." He attacked.  
  
* * *  
  
More than an hour later, she fell to her knees, gasping. She kept her grip on the sword. He bent down, holding his wand pointed directly to her chest.  
  
"Time to die, she-elf!"  
  
Guenevere gasped. Her friend looked at her in shock. "How.how do you know?"  
  
"I just know."  
  
Guenevere lowered her head, pretending defeat. 'Come on,' she thought. 'Just a little lower.come on.bend.bend.NOW!' She jerked the sword up and around and sliced of the Dark Lord's head. She sank back to the ground, so close to losing consciousness it wasn't funny. "Moonlight.send the letters.please." she whispered. Then she allowed herself to lose consciousness. 


	8. The Truth of the Sword, Reunion and Good...

The Sword that is Not a Sword  
  
Disclaimer: Wish I did, but I don't. Wish I could, but I can't. I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Therefore, you have no cause to sue me. I am merely trying to amuse my extremely sick mind. I also do not own 'Until the Night.' That honor goes to Billy Joel. The lyrics are slightly changed, to fit the story. Author's Notes: FINAL CHAPTER!!!!  
  
Part 8: The Truth of the Sword, Reunion and Goodbyes, Questions and Answers  
  
I was sitting at my table, staring off into space. Sirius was asleep, but sleep was a dream for me.  
  
An owl flew in through the window. It dropped a letter into my lap. I opened it. It was a poem.  
  
I never asked you where you'd go after I left you that morning. We went our different ways to separate situations. It's not that easy anymore. Today I do what must be done. I give my time to total strangers. But now it feels as though the day goes on forever-more than it ever did before. Until the night, until the night, I just might make it. Until the night, until the night, when I see you again.  
  
Now you're afraid that we have changed, and I'm afraid we're getting older. So many broken hearts, so many lonely faces, so many lovers come and gone. You'll have your fears like every man. I'll have my tears like every woman. To day we'll be unsure: is this what we believe in? And wonder; how can we go wrong? Until the night, until the night, I just might make it. Until the night, until the night, when I see you again.  
  
When the sun goes down, and the day is over; when the last of the light has gone. As they pour into the street I will be getting closer, as the cars turn their headlights on. As they're closing it down, I'm gonna open it up, and while they're going to sleep, we'll just be starting to touch. I'm just beginning to feel. I'm just beginning to give. I'm just beginning to feel. I'm just beginning to live. Before I leave you again, before the light of the dawn, before this evening can end.I have been waiting so long.  
  
Until the night, until the night, I just might make it! Until the night, until the night, I'll just be holding on. Until the night, until the night, when I see you again.  
  
The signature at the bottom was Guenevere's. I jumped up. "Sirius!" I called.  
  
"What?" he answered. So he wasn't asleep after all.  
  
"I'm leaving!"  
  
"Why? It's three in the morning!"  
  
"I have to go find Guenevere!"  
  
"Wait for me!"  
  
* * *  
  
Guenevere was dying.  
  
It was plain to all who were there. Strangely, she wouldn't let go of the sword. Her helper-who, incidentally, was James. He'd been stuck as a stag in the forest all those years-paced nervously back and forth. He had been reunited with Lily only moments before. And now Guenevere would die.  
  
At some point, her father showed up. They conversed for a while in elven, then he gave her something he said would help her pain. He had said then that it was only a matter of hours.  
  
That had been three days ago.  
  
She was clearly holding on, waiting for something.but James certainly didn't know what. He was about to find out.  
  
Remus burst through the doors. "Gwen." he whispered, falling to his knees beside her.  
  
"How many times have I told you not to call me Gwen?"  
  
Remus didn't seem to care. Guenevere closed her eyes. There was silence for a minute.  
  
"Remus?" Guenevere whispered.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Forgive me?"  
  
"What is there to forgive?"  
  
Another pause.  
  
"Will you kiss me one last time?"  
  
Remus nodded, though he was crying. He wasn't the only one. James gently held Lily as she sobbed silently against his shoulder.  
  
When Remus pulled away, Guenevere smiled. She died smiling.  
  
Everything remained frozen for a minute. Guenevere's father walked forward. Her son was leaning against a wall, his shoulder-length brown hair concealing his face. Dalamar picked up the sword. He almost smiled. "She got the sword."  
  
"Was it worth dying for?" Gareth asked.  
  
"Yes, Gareth," Dalamar answered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"See these carvings?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What do they spell out?"  
  
"Arturus Rex Brittania." (A/N: to those of you who speak Latin, my friend explained how to properly state this, but I forgot. Forgive my poor grammar. I don't speak Latin.)  
  
James blinked. "And?"  
  
Dalamar shook his head. "Honestly. Don't you people read? It's the Sword That is Not a Sword." Seeing their blank looks, he sighed, and rubbed away more of the rust. Under the words Arturus Rex Brittania, was a single word:  
  
Excalibur. 


End file.
